Chapter 1

1. Do You Eat to Survive, Socialize, or Thrive?

Many people throughout the world are living the dream but paying the price for convenience. Does your present situation have any bearing on what you eat? I strongly feel it does, and what you eat today will indeed have an effect on your activity level and how you feel when you retire.

I have observed over my lifetime that “your health is your wealth.” With that fundamental knowledge as a starting point, I have asked many questions. For instance, I began by learning what it means to say, “Chemistry is an assault on biology.” Chemistry is anything that you put into your body that is processed or manmade that can be put in a box for consumption. Biology is every living cell in your body.

Obviously, health is a very important form of leverage. All too often, people do not appreciate the value of their health until they begin to lose it or until they are faced with a health crisis. As Robert T. Kiyosaki says in Retire Young Retire Rich, “How much enjoyment will retirement be if you are unhealthy?”

Here are some examples. The individual who just had a heart attack decides to quit smoking, or the individual who just learned they have diabetes decides to change his or her diet. Sound familiar? What I see most of the time is that there is a quick reaction, but then the remedy, “the pill,” is much easier to swallow than applying a lifestyle change.

Every day, I see someone in my practice who makes these one of my statements:

• “I wish I could have…”
• “If I only did things differently back when I was younger.”
• “I just found out I have cancer—so much for these golden years.”
• “Ever since I retired, I have been in the hospital more than ever.”
• “I am now on oxygen.”
• “I thought once I retired, I would enjoy life.”
• “I go to dialysis three times a week, so I can’t travel anymore like I wanted to.”
• “I am so exhausted; all I do is care for my ailing spouse.”
• “We were supposed to enjoy our retirement years!”

I don’t want this to be you.

One of the hardest things I deal with in a clinical setting is seeing patients dependent on medications to treat their present illnesses. It is not uncommon to see patients taking fifteen, twenty, or even twenty-five different medications a day to help control their diabetes, heart disease, and other ailments. All of these conditions and more could have been so easily prevented, in my opinion, if they would have just paid attention to the signs when they were in their twenties and thirties. But if you’re in your forties, fifties, and even in your seventies, you can still make some amazing changes that will impact your health. Even though a majority of my patients are over forty, they still can benefit from changing their current lifestyle, but it is a lot easier to do when you are younger.

What good is your wealth if it all goes to your health? The system as we know it is set up to take your hard-earned money. When you retire, the system keeps you further enslaved into your retirement years. Think about it. You work to provide food for your family and to have enough money to pay your bills. Most people work to have some form of health insurance!

I’d like to help you understand a simple and easy way that will ease the fears of what your parents are going through or have gone through. It is a process and will provide a pathway to enjoyment in your retirement years. I cannot stop accidents, unexplained traumas, or injuries from happening. But what I can give you is the pathway to your peace of mind, knowing that living a healthy lifestyle is both beneficial and rewarding.

Healthy living has become a way of life for me. I am so thankful for a Sick Dad who allowed me to observe and ask questions. I am also very thankful to a Healthy Dad who allowed me to observe, ask questions, and who kept me on course as I applied the knowledge in my daily routines. Once I learned the proper way to eat, there was no more “dieting.” Healthy eating became a way of life through a “live-it lifestyle.”

Introduction to Sick Dad

My biological father (whom I will hereafter refer to as my Sick Dad) was a robust, strong man for most of his adult years. After returning home from the Korean War, he took over the operation of the family farm; he knew how to farm, rotate crops, raise grass-fed cows, and never took a day off work. He worked the family farm providing for his wife and eight children. He spoke very few words and to have a conversation with him was all but impossible. In fact, the first time we actually had a conversation that lasted longer than three minutes was when I was eighteen years old and ready to leave home. I spent most of my time observing him when I was with him, but I was always eager to get in a question here and there.

He slowly aged, suffering with the pains of his heart disease, gout, and swollen legs. Sick Dad waited for his crisis to change, but it was too late. As I reflect on my Sick Dad, I often ask myself if I could have done more for him. Why didn’t he listen to the principles I shared with him and why was he not willing to apply them to himself? The answer is simple: he asked me only a few questions regarding his health. I have learned that someone who does not ask questions does not participate in the process. This was my Sick Dad’s situation. I wanted so much to tell him what I had learned, but when I did, it seemed like only useless words came out of my mouth.

What Did I Observe from My Sick Dad?

Quite often while driving to the farm to feed the cows, irrigate the land, bail the hay, or to plow the fields, I would kick the empty soda pop bottles and candy bar wrappers off the passenger side of the truck onto the floor. On occasion, I would find his favorite cookies still in the cookie box, and I would eagerly eat one as it would break the silence while we drove to the farm.

Due to the lack of communication, if I was going to learn anything from my Sick Dad, I had to observe and figure out the answers in my mind. When I was lucky, he would answer one of my questions. Aside from being a good neighbor and a man who was very well-respected in the community, he loved his candy, soda, and ice cream. At home, we ate what my mother prepared, and usually, it was food that was grown from the garden and farm. At breakfast, I observed him pouring a large scoop of white sugar on top of his cornflakes. We commonly ate that cereal because it was the cheapest box cereal at the grocery store. I told myself that if my Sick Dad could do that, then I could, too. So I’d douse my cornflakes with several scoops of sugar. The highlight of the year came on Christmas morning when we were treated to a box of sweetened cereal.

When we would sit down at the dinner table, my Sick Dad would sit at the head of the table, then the eight children and my mother would find their places around the table. We did not have any fancy drinks. We drank tap water. We would have homemade bread rolls and some form of meat: beef, chicken, or pork. The vegetables were seasonal and usually came from the garden. In the winter months, we would eat canned fruits and frozen vegetables. The main vegetable was usually potatoes with lots of table salt and margarine. For dessert, we would have a bowl of fruit from the orchard. There was very little talking at the dinner table, as eating was just a stopping point for fuel to give us the needed energy to go back out and work. We were eating to survive!

If there was any excitement at the dinner table, it was when I would ask for a bread roll. As I would ask one of my brothers or sisters to please pass the bread roll, I would have to pay close attention as one would be thrown from the opposite end of the table. “Pass the bread roll” took on a whole new meaning!

After dinner, we would go back outside and work until dark. In Sick Dad’s terms, “daylight is work time.” Once it was too dark to work, we would go back home, and my Sick Dad would have his bowl of ice cream before retiring to bed. I rarely ate ice cream as it aggravated my asthma.

When I really started to see my Sick Dad’s health decline was when he had his first heart attack in his mid-seventies. It slowed him down, but he still got up each day to go to the farm. Then the second heart attack came, followed by a third one. Finally, the fourth heart attack came, and then he took up residence in his recliner. I would make frequent trips up to see him, and I would recommend better eating habits, but he was set in his ways. The last time I offered any health advice was the last time I told him to lay off the ice cream at night as this was causing most of his gout attacks. He told me in no uncertain terms, “I will eat what I want to eat.” I never again discussed my Sick Dad’s poor health with him.

As I observed his behaviors, I asked myself questions. The main one was, “How did this strong man go from being so healthy to now having to use a walker to help him walk and being dependent on oxygen 24/7 to help him breathe?” If I had asked my Sick Dad if he planned on...